


Cure For The Nightmares

by ForTheDamaged (CountingWithTurkeys)



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Nightmares, Not Canon to Symphony Universe, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountingWithTurkeys/pseuds/ForTheDamaged
Summary: Nightmares are strong. Love is stronger.
Relationships: Princess Bubblegum/Marceline
Comments: 3
Kudos: 130





	Cure For The Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> More fluff! Except this fluff is dedicated to someone special.

“Bon?”

It was the melancholy tone in the vampire’s otherwise musical voice that pulled Bonnibel out of her book. She looked over her shoulder from her place at her desk, squinting through the darkness at the lump curled up in her bed. In truth, she had expected that Marceline would be asleep by now; despite the darkness of the room it had to be high noon, far too late for vampires to be awake. And far too late for that level of somber. With a frown the candy princess slid her glasses off, folding them neatly on top of her now-forgotten book.

Bonnibel knew Marceline better than she knew herself, knew her well enough to know that this wasn’t a trivial inquiry. Something had disturbed her lover, and that same something was now beckoning her to the side of the half-demon curled under the soft, pink blankets. Her warm hand slipped under the soft cloth and easily found the musician’s cool, bare back, causing the older woman to jump. Well, that was no good. “What is it, Marceline?,” she asked gently. A moment of hesitation before the queen rolled over, pushing herself up first onto her elbows, then up further until her arms were wrapped around her knees. Still, she didn’t look at Bonnibel, something that didn’t bode well. Shifting her frown into something more understanding, something more affectionate, the young scientist trailed her hand forward until it rested under her mate’s chin, lifting it slowly. Marceline followed the gesture reluctantly, raising her head until their eyes met. It lasted only for a moment before she looked away.  _ A nightmare, then. _ Those were happening with alarming regularity as of late. “Talk to me, little bat,” Bonnibel murmured.

Marceline hesitated before surrendering to the arms pulling her close. Bonnibel was just too warm, too soft, too comforting, and the vampire’s head naturally found its rightful place on her shoulder. But talk she didn’t; instead she shivered in the sensation of warm fingers running through her hand, relishing in the serene feeling that only Bonnibel could elicit. Slowly she could feel the tension leave her body, could feel her eyelids grow heavy again. In the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t fair to rely on her lover to soothe away her night terrors, and really, how ridiculous was it in the first place that  _ she _ of all people would have any? When the hand settled on the back of her neck Marceline pushed that thought away. “Sorry,” she mumbled against the haze of sleep. “How’s your book?”

“Marcy,” Bonnibel prompted kindly.

Marceline sighed.  _ Shoulda known you can’t discourage a brainlord. _ “Sorry,” she repeated from the corner of her mouth. Bonnibel kissed the top of her head, a silent encouragement. It worked. “Just a nightmare,” she grumbled. “Shouldn’t have interrupted your nerding.”

But her tension said otherwise, the way she trembled, how her jaw was clenched, threatening to push a fang through soft flesh unwittingly. This would have to be handled delicately. Fortunately, Bonnibel had centuries of experience in comforting a troubled vampire, and the knowledge of where all those troubles came from. The first thing to address was- “It’s not wrong to need comfort, Marcy.” The response was a dismissive grunt. It did nothing to dissuade the younger woman. “I know,” Bonnibel whispered. “I know it’s hard, but I’m right here, little bat. I’m not leaving.” It was a reassurance the princess had given hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Not that it wasn’t warranted, of course. Marceline had true horrors in her past, and having spent her formative years alone meant that even now, hundreds of years later, she still had trouble opening up when she needed it. That was alright. It would always be alright as far as Bonnibel was concerned. It didn’t discourage her in the slightest.

“Just a bad dream,” Marceline admitted. Sighed. “It’s dumb.”

And yet she hadn’t moved, hadn’t pulled away, and contrary to popular belief Bonnibel was quite capable of being comforting, even loving. But only to- “Marceline, it’s okay,” she promised. “You’re there when I need you, aren’t you?” The embrace tightened, and to her delight the half-demon curled closer. With a smile, the candy golem shifted position, laying down so her queen could rest on her chest, sensitive ear over her heart. It was a lulling sound and they both knew it. “Who makes sure I eat and sleep? Who keeps me on track and outside of my work?” Her fingers gently scritched Marceline’s pointed ear and she delighted in the light twitch of a stifled purr.

It worked, and this time Marceline’s sigh was of defeat. “Just a bad dream, Bon. Happens.”

“Yes,” Bonnibel agreed. “And when it does, I’m right here.” Another grunt. “Marceline, look at me.” Grunt. “Please.”

It, that earnest plea, was enough, and Marceline tilted her head up, just in time to feel her princess’s free hand slide into her own, her reward for cooperating. Fair trade, even if she could repeat from heart the lecture that was about to accompany the gesture.  _ That’s how Bon shows affection, though. Lecturing, _ Marceline mused.

“Animals, all animals, learn their most vital skills first,” the scientist began softly. “Hours old a foal can run. A newly hatched snake can bite.”

Marceline rolled her eyes. “Bon, I’m queen of the vampires  _ and _ a demon  _ and  _ Heir to the Nightosphere. Pretty sure I could tear the world in half if I wanted.”

“Yes, that’s absolutely true. I have yet to find a limit to your powers. But…”

When she trailed off Marceline continued in a well-practiced mutter. “That’s not what’s important.”

Bonnibel’s smile was encouraging. “Exactly. Those abilities came much later in your life. You are a vampire now, but you weren’t born one. You were born half demon, half human.”

“Humans are extinct, Bon. Well, ‘cept Finn.”

“But,” Bonnibel continued, undeterred, “records survive of them as a species, and through them we know that human babies cried.”

“Sounds lame.”

“It means-”

“That baby humans were lame?”

“-that your most important survival skill is asking for help.”

“Yep, lame.”

Bonnibel sighed softly, but it was offset by her hold tightening, by her hand squeezing the cool one nestled in it. “Marcy, you don’t need to deflect. You’re safe.”

Marceline’s mouth opened, and perhaps something sarcastic was meant to tumble out, but instead it was replaced with- “…I know,” she admitted quietly. “Thanks, Bon.”

Bonnibel smiled, reaching out to pull the blankets over them both. It was hard not to chuckle at the older royal’s evident confusion. “I believe it’s time for a break, Marcy.”

The musician’s confusion was, honestly, too endearing for the princess to admit. “You sure, Bon? You looked pretty into your nerding.”

“I assure you, Marceline, I would rather be with you.”

The candy golem’s favorite garnet eyes brightened and Marceline smirked. “Or…” Traditionally, that sly tone of voice meant nothing good. This time, though, the only mischief evident was the book that dropped to Bonnibel’s side. “You were reading this one, right?”

The sly tone was still there, but tempered by actual curiosity. It was enough for Bonnibel to turn her attention away from her mate for the brief amount of time it took to confirm that, indeed, the book laying next to her, aided to her side through some expert telekinesis, was the same one she had been perusing before Marceline’s nightmare had interrupted both of their peace and quiet. Bonnibel laughed softly, plucking the book from the bed. “Thank you, Marceline.” She meant it, too.

Marceline, in response, yawned as she settled into a more comfortable position, nestled in her lover’s arms. “Thanks, Bon. You grock.”

By the time Bonnibel responded with a soft reassurance, a soft declaration of love, Marceline was asleep once more, her last thoughts of the possibility that Bonnibel may be right. Not that she would tell her that. Ever.

Well, maybe when she woke up.


End file.
